She dropped her hand and met his gaze squarely. “He did not kiss me—not the way you mean. Not with any tenderness or love.”
Seth remembered the dream of his wedding night, the sinister shadow coming between him and his bride.
“I used to kiss the rose petals when I was a girl.” She made the confession in a rush, and he felt tenderness and a tightening in
his chest at her words. It was the first time she’d mentioned her life before Beiler.
He picked a full red rose from the jar on the table, stripped off the tiny thorns, and handed it across to her. “Take it,” he said in a whisper. “Remember how it felt. And know that, like this rose without its thorns, I will do my best to bring you joy and never pain.”
G
race looked into the earnest, expectant eyes of her husband and took the rose from him. She leaned into its petals and inhaled its fragrance, breathing in the rich aromas of summer and delight and possibility. She felt the velvety petals against her skin and brushed her lips across the petals.
“Thank you,” she said.
And she closed her eyes, trying to remember the girl she had been once, a lifetime ago, when she had loved to kiss the flowers.
J
acob stopped by that evening, obviously in a hurry. “Hiya,” he said. “Would you do me a favor and check on Lilly in a bit? Her
mamm’s
not home, and I’m going to be gone late. I’ve heard of an abused gelding down in Boalsville, and I want to see if I can get ahold of him.”
“Sure thing,” Seth promised.
As Jacob left, everyone followed him out onto the porch to wish him well. Seth sniffed the air. “It’s going to be a doozy of a storm.”
“How do you know?” Alice asked.
Seth gestured with his hand. “You can see it gathering over the mountains. See that gray line in those clouds? You can almost feel it.”
“I can smell it,” Abel said. “I smell rain in the air. It smells good.”
“I love a thunderstorm,” Grace said.
“You are full of surprises,” Seth said. “I thought most women were afraid of lightning and thunder. It gets really loud here in the valley.”
“Good,” she said. “The louder, the better.” Grace smiled. “When there was a storm in Middle Hollow, I used to go out on the porch and watch it roll in.”
“I went with you,” Abel said.
“Yes, you did. We would stand and watch the power of the storm, and marvel at what God is like.”
“Well, in that case, do you want to come with me to stop in on Lilly?”
“Yes, you two go on. Abel and I will watch from the front porch,” Alice said. “I don’t know where Violet’s gotten off to.”
Grace smiled. “She’ll come home like a jackrabbit soon enough. She doesn’t like storms one bit. Don’t worry about her, Alice.”
V
iolet drew rein on the small buggy as the first ominous raindrops began to strike. She had pulled up right outside the Kings’ large barns, but no one seemed to be about.
“All right, Amy,” she said to Grace’s horse. “Looks like it’s you and me.” She tried to keep her voice level, to keep the nervous horse calm until she could get inside. But before she could slide down from the buggy seat, someone grasped her around the waist.
“It’s foolish to drive about when this kind of a storm is coming.”
She turned to face Luke, ignoring the flash of lightning that normally would have had her running for cover. The flash in his eyes was much more worth her attention. He caught the reins and began to pull both her and the horse toward the barn.
“We need shelter for the horse,” he called over the thunder. “Now!”
She nodded and followed him inside.
L
uke had thought endlessly of the kiss he’d shared with Violet behind the feed store; it had kept him awake at night. And now, being alone in the sheltered intimacy of the barn, all he wanted to do was kiss her again. But he felt at odds with himself when he was around her, unable to resolve the conflicting feelings when she looked at him with her sea-blue eyes.
He unhitched the mare and led her into an empty stall. He took his time, not looking at Violet, but vividly aware of her presence. He wished he had someone to talk things over with. His
bruders
, unfortunately, would tease him mercilessly, and he wasn’t prepared for that.
Then he lifted his head and gave a speculative glance at the object of his dilemma. Maybe . . . maybe he could talk with her.
A
s the clouds gathered and the thunder began to rumble from beyond the mountains, Seth and Grace headed to the buggy.
Grace relished the storm as they drove. The wildness and the
freedom of it were a bit different here in the mountain. The lightning strikes were more pronounced, the thunder deeper. And she loved it all.
Within a few minutes they arrived at Jacob’s house. They knocked on the door, but no one answered.
“That’s odd,” Seth said. He turned the doorknob and it gave. Inside, the house was dark, with only one kerosene lamp burning on the kitchen sink.
“Lilly?” Seth called.
“In here,” a fragile voice responded.
They went into the living room to find Lilly lying on the couch. “Seth, Grace. Thank God.”
“Are you all right?” Seth asked.
“Can I talk to Grace for a minute—in private?”
Seth nodded and backed away into the kitchen with a worried look on his face.
Lilly held out a hand and Grace took it. “Grace, something’s wrong,” Lilly said. “I’m bleeding. A lot.”
“Do you need an ambulance?”
She shook her head. “No. Have Seth go for the midwife.”
“I’ll get him.” She ran to the kitchen, where Seth paced anxiously. “Lilly needs the midwife. Now!”
Seth looked at her in alarm and nodded. “I’ll go.” He was out the door in a second, running through sheets of rain to the buggy.
Grace grabbed the lamp and went back to the couch. “Are you in pain?”
Lilly nodded. “It started about half an hour after Jacob left. I went to the bathroom, and I knew something was wrong.” Her voice broke.
“How far along are you?”
“Three months . . . only three months.”
“Just hang on, Lilly. We’re getting help.”
Grace held her hand and stroked her hair and listened to the rain beat down. Finally she heard the sound of hoofbeats above the storm. Seth came in with
Fraa
Knepp, both of them drenched to the skin. The midwife called for more light, then did a brief examination of Lilly while Seth and Grace waited anxiously in the kitchen.
She soon called them back.
“She’s definitely miscarrying, but we’ll have to wait. These things can take some time. The best we can do is make her comfortable and be here for her.” She turned back to Lilly. “I’m going to stay with you and give you something for the pain.”
Grace went to sit by Lilly. She did not know what it was like to have a miscarriage, but she could imagine.
“Rachel,” Lilly said. “I wanted to name her Rachel. I was sure it was a girl. Rachel Wyse, that would have been so pretty.” She looked over Grace’s shoulder at Seth. “I wish Jacob were here.”
“I can go try to find him,” Seth said. “He went to Boalsville, that’s all I know.”
But before he could say another word, the kitchen door banged open.
Jacob had arrived.
J
acob stood for a minute looking around the room. He was soaking wet and dripping on the floor.
“What’s going on?” he asked. “Why is everybody here?”
Seth started toward him, but Jacob caught sight of Lilly and pushed past his brother to kneel beside the couch.
“Jacob, I lost the baby. I thought it was going to be a girl—I’m so sorry.”
“Why are you sorry? Don’t be—” The words caught in his throat, and he began to cry.
Jacob laid his head down against Lilly’s breast, and Seth looked away. He caught Grace’s eye and nodded toward the kitchen.
They went out onto the porch. Thunder shook the hills and lightning flashed, and the rain continued to fall. Grace touched his arm. He looked down at her and didn’t even try to hide the tears. “I wanted to be an uncle,” he said.
“I know,” she said. “And I know how much you hurt for Jacob and Lilly. I know how much Jacob means to you.”
She put her arms around him and he hugged her tightly, letting his tears fall on her shoulder. He wanted to stay there forever, in the warmth of her arms, while the storm raged around them.
But the moment passed. The door opened behind them, and Grace stepped back. Jacob appeared, his face ashen and strained. “Please, both of you, come back inside for a while. We want you.”
By the time
Fraa
Knepp’s duties were completed, Lilly had fallen into an exhausted sleep and Jacob sat holding her hand. Seth came and put his arm around his brother.
“She was so happy about this baby.” Jacob stared into the burning lamp. “There will be other pregnancies, right?” he asked
Fraa
Knepp.
The midwife nodded. “There’s absolutely no reason she can’t have another child.”
He rose suddenly. “I’m going to go put up the horse.”
Seth followed him, walking slowly through the lessening storm. He helped with the chores in the warm comfort of the barn, and when everything was done, he turned and extended his arms to his brother. Jacob came into the hug without resistance and rested his head on Seth’s shoulder. It was a rare moment between them. Seth felt some part of himself grow up, as if for the first time he understood that loss could mean growth.
“I wanted this baby,” Jacob said.
“I know,” Seth whispered. “Me too.”
Jacob breathed a huge sigh, then stepped back from his brother. He gave Seth a weak smile. “But we’ll try again, as the Lord wills, and have some joy in the trying.”
When Seth finally felt comfortable enough to leave, he got the buggy out of the barn, took the midwife home, and rode back to the farm in silence with Grace close at his side.
The days ahead would be hard for Lilly and Jacob. But he and Grace would visit often and do what they could to ease the pain of loss.
It was what families did for one another.
V
iolet watched as Luke moved from her to sit on a hay bale, leaning his back against a barn beam.
“So,” he began in a conversational tone, “the truth of the matter is that I understand farming. Not women.”
Violet went to stand opposite him. “Women aren’t so much difficult, not if you’re careful.”
He shook his head. “I’m at a loss,” he whispered against the roll of the thunder. “That kiss the other day. The buggy ride. You—someone as beautiful as you—wanting me.”
“It was the caterpillar.”
He arched a dark brow. “You’re telling me that all of this, this goings-on, is because of a baby caterpillar?”
Violet nodded and came forward to sit beside him on the hay bale. “You see, women want to be seen, noticed, and nurtured—like you did with the baby caterpillar.”
“I’m confused.”
She reached a hand up to touch his face. “Don’t be. Maybe . . . maybe I shouldn’t have started this.”
He shook his head and turned his face so that his lips touched her palm.
“Nee,”
he muttered. “Maybe not.”
T
hey returned home late, but Grace couldn’t unwind to go to sleep. Instead she stood on the porch watching the storm dissipate. The trees ceased to bend and the rustling corn stilled.
Seth came and stood beside her. “The storm is passing,” she said.
“I know,” Seth replied.
“And it will pass for Lilly and Jacob.”
“I know.”
It was the Amish way to accept loss as part of life, to trust that
Gott
knew best. But it wasn’t easy.
Seth put his arm around Grace and she leaned into him. Together they stood watching as the last of the clouds drifted away into the night and the stars came out once again.
G
race dressed for Sunday Meeting and battled within herself. On the one hand, she didn’t especially want to see Kate Zook at Meeting that morning. The girl was cynical and wounded. Grace understood this, but the understanding was no help. She couldn’t get past the way Kate looked at Seth.